


The Five Stages Of Grief

by IObse33



Category: The Brave Little Toaster (1987)
Genre: Character Death, Coping, Depression, Five Stages of Grief, Hope, Separation Anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-13
Updated: 2020-01-13
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:34:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22244914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IObse33/pseuds/IObse33
Summary: They never expected it as possible, but the passing was calm amidst the turmoil of his illness. It catches everyone by surprise, and with Rob gone, they've never felt more isolated from each other, for everyone goes through the process alone.
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Timeline is not in specific order.

They never expected it as possible, but the passing was calm amidst the turmoil of his illness. It catches everyone by surprise, and with Rob gone, they've never felt more isolated from each other, for everyone goes through the process alone.

No one knows when exactly it happened, not even the humans. It simply was at some point in the night his breath had faltered, strained, then gave out. The rest of him followed. His wife seemed to have expected it, though she is no less distraught by the occasion. The appliances, however, the original gang, had convinced themselves Rob would pull through. They never pondered their masters death, except for perhaps the vacuum, Kirby.

The whole house was devastated. Rob had not only saved the five appliances from his childhood, but appliances through all his life. The money going into maintaining such technology of outdated builds eventually lead to them not owning the biggest house they could.

Perhaps his son teasingly called him a hoarder, but to the appliances, he was the only reason they were still alive; In this sense, he might as well have been their God.

Imagine the most devout Christian having just found out that God is dead, no longer exists.

So many souls shackled and burdened might as well be on the roof of the house, making it sag and cave in. The world had been destroyed for them, it was only fitting.

No one appliance took it the hardest, but it could be agreed the original gang was the group to tumble the most.

They had convinced themselves this couldn't happen, that they'd be with their master forever.

They never left the house that next month, but the world never seemed larger.


	2. Denial

Toaster spent their whole life convincing everyone they'd see their master again. Toaster did it to keep morale up in the cabin all those years ago; to keep from pondering abandonment at the college; Toaster did it every time they moved to a new house, assuring they'd not be abandoned again.

Perhaps this hope was Toaster's crutch more than it was the others, they just convinced the others well. Either way, they saw not the harm in such hope, so why let the old habit die?

The others denying their hope for the first time may be what hurt most of all. They couldn't understand it, hope fills you with joy and happy apprehension, why not use it to stay afloat, to have something to look forward too every day?

Perhaps the only others to hope like the platinum toaster were those still naive, but even blankly was no longer naive. He hadn't been since the cabin.

And so as the gang rejected their ray of hope, on Toaster waited, watching with dismay as Radio took on the role of caring and comforting the others alongside them, if not better than them.

Was it not a disgrace to give up on master? He had never given up on any of them.

"Toaster?"

The Toaster jumped, a soft yellow fabric curling around them. They sighed and smiled, Blanky unfailingly came to check in on him every day. All those years of protecting the younger paid off. Not that this was a game of buying affection. Life isn't a game, life is real, death is the test.

"How are you doing today?" His voice is so soft, so precious and young, a treasure to protect and keep under your wing. Yet it's precious Blanky protecting the Toaster. Toaster didn't like thinking about it.

"I'm doing alright." Their movement undermined their words, turning around to look out of the kitchen window he was left in front of. There he had a clear view of the front yard and the driveway. Every day he waited for the Mistress to return home, but even more so for the Master to somehow be with her.

Blanky stifled a sob; he may have grown smarter, more mature, but his tears were always the exception. He held back, wishing not to upset the Toaster more. He wanted the old Toaster back.

He was more than willing to help Toaster, trying desperately, wishing desperately to escape the delusion of false hope. But he missed being the one comforted, and he never needed comfort more, but as time wore on, Blanky realised more and more this same delusion of Toasters is the same hope that comforted him his whole life beforehand.

He didn't like to think that even if he got Toaster back he wouldn't get the comfort he needed, so he focuses on returning years of affection instead, anyways.

Exhausted, Blanky slipped into sleep.

He awoke to Toaster's gasp. Bleary visioned and muddled still with sleep the Blanky looked out the window where Toaster was staring eagerly and for a tenth of a second shares Toaster's thought.

Master.

But it's not and Blanky corrects himself immediately. It's the Little Master with the Mistress, with the red hair of his father but the mannerisms of his mother.

Blanky sighed, wanting so desperately to cry but instead feels to sick to even do so as he looks at Toaster; at Toaster's expression of pure joy.

Blanky unwrapped himself from Toaster, slinks away and off the counter, glad for an excuse to leave. Toaster barely noticed.


	3. Anger

Really it was what he did best. Kirby always hid his emotions behind anger. He feared being teased for being soft, like Blanky and Toaster used to be, so he acted uncaring, even after the issue dissipated. He felt weak when happy, and so he feigned grumpiness, though less and less as time went on, as joy grew more and more familiar.

Anger was always the most familiar, however, and so it was his natural mask.

And so it was his mask now.

"Well if they had just listened to his complaints he'd still be here!"

Radio moved as if rolling his eyes. "What's this? A sudden News Flash! A new book just released on how doctors are also human!"

Kirby huffed, squinting and nearing the Radio; he barked. "How about you take things seriously for once?"

"I do thank you very much, Toaster is the one you should talk to about that!" Snapped Radio, almost proudly at being better than the Toaster for once. He had always wanted to be leader, acted like it though really he had almost always simply been co-captain.

Kirby was tired of this, of everyone moping, and the radio always tryna cheer everyone up like nothing was wrong. He was sick of this turmoil, despised that they had no play in it, that they weren't to blame but also couldn't stop it.

He despised those damn doctors; they should have listened. He was closest to their room in his little closet. He had used to love his closet, his place to run away when he found himself crossing the line from grumpy to flat out rude; nowadays the closet was just as evil a place, where he could hear all of the Mistress' frustrated cries at the news of Doctors resistance, the Mistress's desolated sobs of hopelessness.

He was sick of it all, he wanted away from it, he wanted to be alone to seethe, and not constantly be pestered about how such anger was worthless. Anger was how he coped, if they'd just understand that, if Radio would just understand that, he wouldn't have said what he did.

"If you're taking things so seriously why are you so chippity? It's like you don't even care."

Lampy, who had been nearby in the living room, on an overcrowded desk talking with those there, had been eavesdropping. He was rather used to the Radio and Kirby bickering recently, but those words from Kirby got him to finally look over in shock.

Kirby flinched when a metal antenna smacked him right on the head, then again, and again. Again and again, and he was forced to truly take in what he himself had said, for sure they all continued to bicker all their life, but they had dropped any physical fighting after their trek to find Master from the abandoned cabin. Radio and Lampy ended their violent tackling, Radio stopped hitting with his antenna, Kirby even stopped being verbally abusive to his friends.

And yet all he'd been doing these past few days was throwing insult after insult at the doctors who probably did do their best to help their Master, and now he had insulted Radio on not caring about what was of utmost importance to them all, even now after his death.

He had pushed Radio past his breaking point, and so he was struck, and Radio rambled on how Kirby thought he didn't care, and now Blanky was trying to wrap around Radio and calm him but his voice was too quiet and Radio took no notice.

It was as Kirby started to back away, started out with an "Hey now, I didn-" that he was cut off by Toaster's loud yell.

"Hey! What's going on in here?" The feminine voice carried a rather strong tone of aghast fury.

That got everyone to freeze. Toaster had not only been their leader through their collective adventures, but the appliance had also taken on the general role of leadership within every house they resided.

"The Master is gone and so you start fighting again?" Their voice has morphed from anger to general despondency. "I thought we got past all that years ago. You know better."

It was all too much for Kirby, who half haphazardly wondered how many new scratches he gained then and the newfound rage at Toaster lecturing them.

"Oh, so you finally accepted he's gone just to talk down on us, eh?"

Once again, Kirby had let his anger speak for him, and he realised he had to get away. He was quickly growing into a monster, one that would currently be on display if not for everyone watching Toaster's reaction at the moment.

Toaster's look of utter disappointment at Kirby and Radio morphed into shock, and then something cracked. They didn't turn back to return to their window with a worried look of hope. They simple stood one second, slouched forward the next, mouth in an open frown. There was a sob, a second sob, then they turned around, slowly creeping away, before giving a sigh and falling forwards onto the counter.

"Toaster!" Was the panicked cry, and Lampy, Radio and Blanky all rushed to their chrome friend.

They lifted Toaster back into their feet, and set about to comforting, trying to ensure Toaster wouldn't again faint from despair.

Kirby stared in shock at what he had caused, and finally, the anger turned on himself. Mentally he berated himself, throwing every insult he could find true at himself, and constantly, constantly the "Look what you just did, what did Toaster ever do to you?", always that.

He retreated to his closet, knowing he'd be no help with the rest of the gang, now certain he deserved the haunting sons of the mistress that fill the night into late hours.

He hoped no one of his friends thought him a true and absolute jerk, and at the same time knew at least Radio and Lampy did.


	4. Bargaining

Lampy just wanted peace. He wanted the anxiety to go away, he wanted the harsh cacophony of fighting to leave, he wants to feel useful again. It's always too small now, too claustrophobic. He wants peace for his friends too, he can't handle their pain, for their pain buries into him as well. Perhaps he seems the most mundane, always questioning, but he tended to figure everything out and more if he had just the time to think. Perhaps that made him the most understanding of the five right now.

It's time. The Mistress is in her room, preparing for bed. Even if she should leave into the study area, she wouldn't notice the Lamps absence. She never cared much for Rob's old appliances, just tolerated them. Maybe she cares now, keeping her eyes low and to the ground, as if fearing looking at all the remains, like they've suddenly too much meaning.

Lampy leaves through one of two windows always propped open no matter the time of year. It was Little Master who insisted on this, so the fresh air could battle the dusty, musty smell of the house that culminated in the past couple of years. He left through the window of the second floor, it had a flower bed full of dirt, and flowers long dead. How ironic.

The sky was just starting to rearrange with more hues than blue. Pastel yellow and bittersweet pink. The sun was low, not yet setting. Lampy knew by now the sun was not a lamp, not The Big Lamp, but to him it might as well be. It lit half the world at once, and created its own energy as well as provided energy for other technologies. It was absolutely amazing, could be its own deity among lamps.

For years Lampy admired the sun, near most of his life, marvelling at it and loving it's existence and that his creation was inspired by the sun.

He came here out of habit, it was habit to watch the sun set for its beauty, usually with Radio, then for comfort, his way to relieve stress from the day. This past week, each sunset the feeling of warmth and relief that filled him came less and less. The sky was still beautiful, but the comfort was gone, the loneliness even more present as Radio had stopped joining him.

All he could do was watch the sun lower into the ground, just like Master will in only a week more. He felt tears trail down his face, and didn't try to stop them. The world was beautiful, and yet, now with no purpose, no one to serve it all seemed pointless.

Ignoring those alive, the sun and all its marvels was probably Lampy's most favourite thing in the world.

He leaned forward, staring at the drop to the ground. He'd survived such a drop before, he'd survived being shot from electricity, he survived a river of water. He could be indestructible for all he knew. Seemed well like it.

Besides, he couldn't do that, even if he wanted to, which he didn't. If one death affected them all this badly. And it wouldn't be some noble cause, not unlike Radio sacrificing an integral part of his system to save friends, fellow animals, from a lab that might as well have been a torture facility. Not like Toaster jumping into gears to save Rob from being crushed in machinery, or his acting as a lightning rod so they could better find Blanky, lost in a dark forest on a stormy night while leaving the abandoned cabin. And so many more examples of noble causes.

Lampy almost smiled. Almost, where they always so willing to give up everything for each other? Certainly not in the cabin. He frowned, if they'd not left that cabin, they'd all have ended up dead there, from murder or loneliness.

Lampy gave a frustrated cry. "I can't find any peace around here with all the thinking around here."

He paused, realised what he said, and thus tried tirelessly to stop thinking.

The sky was a wonderful blaze of yellow, reds and purples and indigo blues. He barely paid it any mind.

Time seemed frozen, he seemed stuck, alone in a world with only him and the saturated sky.

Yes, if not for the others, the sun and all its marvels would be Lampy's most favourite thing in the world.

And yet, as the sun disappeared, and the colours faded, blue swallowing the earth; such a sad colour; Lampy realised more and more he'd be willing to give up the sun, will it out of existence, if it would just bring Master back, and stop all the problems they now seemed to have. But most importantly, to bring The Master back.

Outside in the cool air of night and on the flower bed Lampy fell asleep.


	5. Depression

Blanky spent most of his days plugged in. Almost no one was plugged in anymore, they were too old, not properly maintained by a licensed technician. It was considered a for hazard, the humans understood that, the appliances understood, it was simply that Blanky couldn't bring himself to care. He kept in the small basement, instead of the attic. He hated the attic nowadays. In addition, it was cold enough he could heat up without overheating.

It was a cruel cycle.

He couldn't stand how everyone was so lost in their grief they no longer socialised. All his attempts at games were rejected, and often he himself was rejecting the games before he even proposed them. Pair that with Kirby and Radio's bickering... It was as if he was back in the cabin, Master gone, toaster hopelessly hopeful. The differences were it was Kirby and Radio always fighting, not Lampy and Radio, and that he was not being constantly picked on.

He should be glad of that last fact always, but the latter two facts only drive in the fact that it is still different this time. This time Master really isn't coming back, and they can't set out to find him, and now instead of Toaster and him being hopeful for his return it is Toasters hopelessly delusional hope alone.

It is all so depressing, so run down and empty. Blanky hates the feeling, prefers the warmth, fuzziness and joy of laughter and good times. He can't find laughter and good times anymore, so he hides in the blanket, plugs in and recreates that cuddly warmth as best as possible.

He snuggles into himself, warms up, he knows it's not real, but in the moment, it's enough to pretend. Pretending, his guard is let down, and he falls asleep easily, tired from a more recent fear of the night and the stress of saddening, weighty emotions.

Sleep is vulnerability, and sleep is where one reveals their deepest wants and fears. One would say Blanky was lucky, he could be plagued by nightmares, but he's starting to think the nightmares would be better than being plagued by what he most wished for.

Every dream was the same, he wasn't snuggling alone in the basement, it was winter instead. Snow fell daintily on the window, freezing into frost. The radiator hummed gently, unable to keep up with the cold in the room alone. Thus why Blanky was there, he had been bought specifically for that reason; so here he was, tucked around The Master, only a coddling toddler.

When he wasn't protecting The Master from the cold, he was being carried all through the house, he was Master's first love, his one comfort item. It was akin to being a favourite toy.

But even so, Blanky's favourite moments were at night, where they snuggled together, keeping each other warm and far from lonely, fulfilled and happy.

But when a crash, or a yell or a sob wakes him, he's alone, the cold of the cement basement floor seeping in despite the warmth he was supposed to produce. Perhaps he was worn out more than he thought. And the dream would hit, and the emptiness returned, a void opening up like a gaping gash, a gaping gash of a rip in the middle of Blanky's fabric.

The cycle began again, as he curls tighter into himself, unplugs and cries softly, with quiet sobs into himself. If only he could cuddle up with Master, or even The Little Master, heck, even Toaster. And that brings a whole new wave of sadness, of longing for his other friend.

Sometimes, Radio would remember, check in on the Blanky. He'd make his way to the basement, searching, listening as he hopped down the stairs. It was always the same two situations, either the Blanky was asleep or crying. While it pained Radio to see his buddy in such a state, he wasn't good at comforting others verbally ever, and in these states of Blanky's, there was only one way to comfort him.

And so Radio would clamber down and approach Blanky, and silent nudge up against him, until the yellow blanket wrapped around him, cuddled up against him. It took only a few minutes for the crying to silence, for Blanky to instead give a content sigh, and snuggle tighter, and the radio would play a gentle tune, of soft lullabies or comforting words, or, in rare cases, very softly their own Hang In There.

It was the only happiness, however brief, that the Blanky could enjoy nowadays.


	6. Acceptance

Radio was probably the least dependent on The Master, and the most individualistic. Because of this he was the least blinded of the five, the lens the least clouded. And so he was the one who saw the inevitable near. It was obvious, and first he tried to deny it, for worry for the others sake, but as time wore on he knew it was hopeless, and like with all other toils he faced, all the struggles he heard humans over come, he knew to come out unscathed he had to be strong. He couldn't dawdle and dally around the truth, he had to face the issue head on. And to face an issue head on, you must accept the issue.

He had never wanted to become leader like this though.

And as he bickered with Kirby, each insult thrown was a stab to his heart, or rather, tube, and as he retorted, he felt himself crack, knowing he shouldn't be arguing back. When he made that crack towards Toaster, he felt a small piece of him fall away, crumble into dust. Where had his respect gone? Was battles, wars of self acceptance, wars of staying afloat this twisted?

He always joked about being leader, he didn't want to lose toaster to become one. He tried daily to talk to them, but now they just stare despondently out the window, sighing at the site of The Little Master when he arrives to help with matters. Sometimes they speak, something about how they never imagined such a day would really come, and how they never believed it would occur.

"Well, they are human for a reason." Yeah, Radio was not good at verbal comfort, at all.

"I know, I know."

Comforting Blanky was harder, seeing him so desperate and lonely and sleep deprived. He was pretty sure he knew what the Blanket dreamt about, and he wished he could stop them. He couldn't, all he could do was let Blanky hold him.

Every day he awoke more stressed than the last; how did Toaster manage them in the cabin? He wished to sleep it all away, but he knew he had his tasks. Sometimes he could get away, just sit with Lampy in silence. In the more recent years they had been able to just sit in silence, every once in a while making a quip about their past; they laughed now at their foolish angry ways. Every once in a while one of them would propose an idea of thought.

"I miss him, ya know?" Asked the Lamp.

"I know. I know." Radio wished he could pull up more sentimentality, but with his accepting The Master's death, and all the stress of managing the others in Toasters place, he'd not much time to take in his own sadness and progress. His own mentality.

"Am I as broken as them?"

"As..." Radio hesitated, not wanting to be rude now that he was not under the influence of rage. The small sound of his own voice disturbed himself. "As in Kirby, Toaster, and Blanky?"

"Uh huh, of course not broken broken but broken li-"

If he could, Radio would have smiled. Perhaps the Lamps dumb redundancy once annoyed him, caused him to look down on the lad, now it was a comforting familiarity of the comfortable life from a week ago.

Had it really been only a week?

"No, Lampy. I think we got lucky."

...

"You know, I missed having you out here with me, makes this more enjoyable..."

Radio chuckled. The underlying topic of their discussion was rather downing, but they were here, on the windowsill, talking like before. Radio liked the casual informality, and furthered it by playing a casual tune, whatever was on the radio at that time.

Lampy leaned over, resting his head on top of Radio, careful not to switch him off, and for the first time that week, Radios worries seemed to slip away, and he got a small taste of the old calm joy of content.

Just this moment, he decided, made it all worth it. Perhaps he could handle being a leader after all.


	7. Epilogue

The Little Master knew why Rob loved these appliances so. His memory was faded, but he remembered the oddities, the interactions, suddenly being alone when a parent entered the room, or perhaps catching a whisper of a voice as he did his homework, one earbud in. It was always the original five too, as if, whatever rule there was to keep their existence unknown was not as strict to them.

Perhaps he was going crazy, trying to cope with his late father. But it explained all the coincidences, why his father always kept the five, despite not even being the most reliable of old appliances, with the exception of the Kirby bit would also explain the hoarding of household appliances.

He shook his head, he was thinking too much, what he was doing was insane, and yet he couldn't bring himself to turn around, to go back home. He had told his mother he was to try and find a home for the original Kirby, lamp, radio, heating blanket and toaster; he was headed to see his father instead.

The cemetery was not quite in the heart of the town, but not quite on the outskirts either; it was perfect, well maintained but not surrounded by noise and the hustle and bustle of city life. It had the neatness of the city, but time stood still, as if in the country.

He was alone, and yet he felt he'd not be dissuaded from his actions no matter the embarrassment from passerby.

He parked slow, popped the trunk of his car, and retrieved all five appliances minus Kirby. He put the blanket over a shoulder, the smaller appliances in an over the shoulder duffel bag, slung it on, then grasped the vacuum with two hands, one on the handle, one under its base. With a groan he hoisted it up, and on he travelled, staggering occasionally. It wasn't until he got to his father's grave that he set down the appliances, laid them out side by side.

He sat back, panted, and recovered. He stared at the grave, thought about talking to him, deemed it too corny, like girls drama film, and rolled his eyes much like his mother. Still, seeing those appliances there brought tears to his eyes; these were the last embodiment of his father, and he felt tempted to leave the appliances there, but also to keep them.

He sighed, wiped away his tears, they'd be stolen in no time, and if he kept them, he knew he wouldn't use them. It was better to give them away at home in the next week.

He stood from the damp grass, said he'd return in a few minutes, and left to close the trunk of his car, which would only take a minute at most. Still, he hovered, leaning on his car, refusing to look in the direction of his father's grave. Half of him felt silly, mocking him, saying he'd be in a crazy house yet, the other half pleaded for closure, however possible.

When he returned, the appliances were where he left him; the grass around them were trampled, and if one had not known it'd been sunny the past half hour, thought they had a few raindrops on them. The Little Master knew they weren't rain drops, and he stared for a moment, then at the grave.

Once the appliances left, they'd have a new life. It would be better, and he realised, he'd have to move on too, learn to continue on without one of his biggest idols. Without his father.

It was a calm realisation, there were no choked sobs or tears. He simply nodded, reassured with this new certainty, and the certainty that the appliances had said their good bye. He packed them up, hauled them back to his car.

As he packed them up, he wiped off the remaining tears. Maybe he really was going crazy, but at least he felt comforted.

As he drove home, he shed his own tears, knowing he'd have to give up the magical appliances, never knowing their story. There was a reason for that, he was sure, so he must go through with the plan.

...

In the trunk, the appliances huddled together, for comfort and to cry further, silently, all but for the Kirby, who simply stated off into space. No song could fill the raw emotions, as they all had finally accepted The Master's death, Radio finally let his emotions flow freely. The indescribable size of appreciation for the Little Master taking them to see their human one last time, no matter how painful the scene was.

Most of, realising that, in the trunk, they were finally all on the same page again, it would all still hurt for years to come, but they were together again.


End file.
